


Hook, Line and Skinny Margarita

by NoNamesFromCats



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Blind Date, Canon Bisexual Character, Canon Compliant, Comfort, F/F, Lesbian Sex, Missing Scene, Panic, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 10:05:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14734910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoNamesFromCats/pseuds/NoNamesFromCats
Summary: Detective Rosa Diaz is on the worst date of her life. The only bright side is that now she can prove Gina Linetti is a terrible matchmaker.Missing Rosa scenes from 5x17 “DFW” onwards (spoilers). It gets a bit dark but ends happily!





	1. DTF

**Author's Note:**

> warnings (Ch 1): panic, anxiety, mention of cutting/knifeplay

“You wanna make a break for it, I'll cover for you.”

Rosa tore her gaze from the bar's exit. The bartender she'd noticed earlier was smiling conspiratorially at her over Trichelle's empty stool. Rosa considered her offer briefly—not like she hadn't done it before, slipped away while her date was in the washroom, or on a phone call, or in the middle of a sentence.

“Naw,” she decided. “She's a friend of a friend.” Plus, the longer she stuck it out, the more proof she had to rub in Linetti's face. She was debating sending a text-- _Worst date I've ever been on_...--but thought it might be more satisfying to say it in person

“Ah.” The bartender raised an eyebrow. “I got a friend like that too. Keeps telling me she wants to set me up with someone from work.”

Rosa grunted. “Hope your friend's got better taste than mine.” If she had to hear one more word about how to pick a diet for your star sign, she was going to choke herself with a fist full of bar limes.

The bartender nodded, her curls bouncing. “I'm not really into some high pressure date situation, because that—” she nodded to the empty bar stool, “looks painful as hell.” She laughed and left to serve someone down the bar. Rosa caught herself smiling watching the woman out of the corner of her eye. There was something about her attitude that Rosa liked, and something about that smile...

\--

Rosa made her excuse as soon as Trichelle slid back onto her stool. It wasn't even a lie—she did have to work tomorrow. She nearly sighed with relief as the woman air kissed her goodbye and left. She told herself she'd give it a few minutes so they didn't run into each other outside or anything. She took out her phone and started to text Gina. _You were so off..._

“You survived.” The bartender was grinning at her again. Rosa felt a flutter in her stomach that wasn't just the two whiskeys she'd chugged. 

“Barely.”

The bartender laughed. “People are the worst,” she said, but her smile was playful.

Rosa raised an eyebrow. “You don't think so?” she challenged.

“Oh, I know so. Especially when they're drunk.” She cleared the empty glass in front of Rosa and grabbed the bills left by Trichelle. “You have no idea.”

“I do,” Rosa replied, remembering her time as a beat cop. “The world is full of dum dums.”

“Yeah, but sometimes they'll surprise you.” The bartender's lip curled up again. She held her eye contact just a bit too long and Rosa wondered whether there was something else behind her words.

She straightened up a little. “I couldn't do this. Standing here all night, serving people. I'd be choking out the first jerk to call me sweetheart.”

The bartender chuckled. “I'd hate to see your tips. What do you do, then?”

“I'm a Detective.”

The bartender squinted at her. “Isn't that whole law enforcement motto, like, to protect and serve?”

Damn, the woman had her there. Rosa ordered another round.

\--

A half hour later, Rosa had paid for and pounded three more drinks. She'd also bought a shot for the bartender, who introduced herself as Aubrey.

Rosa glanced around at the dwindling weeknight crowd, her head pleasantly foggy as her focus fell on the woman behind the bar. A familiar heat worked its way through her body and she tried to remember how many of her drinks had been doubles. Four-drink Amy had nothing on ten-drink Rosa. And she was pretty damn sure from the looks they'd been trading back and forth, that Aubrey was thinking the same thing she was. 

The next time she came over to Rosa's place at the bar, Aubrey was tugging on a green canvas coat. She grinned through her curls and leaned in close enough that Rosa could smell some kind of flower scent wafting from her. Her arm brushed Rosa's and it sent a welcome shiver down her spine.

“My shift's over. Wanna get out of here?”

“Yup.” Rosa was already out of her seat.

\--

“You live around here?” Rosa asked as they started down the sidewalk together. She stopped beside her bike, parked conveniently close, just in case she'd had to make a quick getaway.

“No, but I know a place nearby. We can walk.” Aubrey grinned again and Rosa didn't feel like asking any follow-up questions.

“That bike was yours?” Aubrey asked as they continued walking. “Supercharged it yourself?”

Rosa allowed herself a slight smile. “Yeah. You ride?”

Aubrey shook her head. “No. My dad did. Taught me some stuff. I thought maybe I'd take it up after he died, you know, keep the memory alive, but I never really got into it. Guess that was his thing, not mine. What about your family? Are you close?”

Rosa swallowed. That hit a raw nerve. She hadn't spoken to her mom since the games night when she had stood in front of her parents and asked them to accept them for who she was. Her dad, at least, had made an effort. They'd spoken on the phone a few times since, him trying to relay all of the family news and her trying not to think about her mom standing silently beside him, refusing to get on the phone. She hadn't bothered coming out to any one else in her family.

Rosa scowled and shoved her hands in her pockets. “Not anymore.”

Aubrey looked thoughtful. “Yeah, you know, I get along with my mom pretty good. But sometimes I wonder--if my dad was still alive, if we would have now. I mean--I don't know. Bike-riding, military guy. Maybe he wouldn't be down with a lesbian artist bartender daughter. But I guess, I never have to know.” 

“I told my parents I was bi and they told me it was just a phase,” Rosa blurted out in rapid-fire mode. “And that it didn't matter because I'd still marry a man.” She took a breath. “We don't really talk anymore.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah.” She exhaled. “It does.” She relaxed a notch. It wasn't horrible telling Aubrey things. She was a stranger, after all. Albeit one who worked at the cop bar closest to their precinct. Rosa looked sideways at her. “How's the rest of your family with it?”

“You mean being gay? Cause they're cool with that. Honestly the only problem anyone's got with my life is that I'm thirty-”--she hummed in place of the second number-- “years old and still tending bar. But I know what I'm doing. I'm making art and making some good money off cops. Especially the ones who drink like you do.” She nudged Rosa's ribs lightly with her elbow.

Rosa grinned. “Hey, I was just trying to make up for the skinny margaritas with _a dash of agave_ ,” she opened her eyes wide and emphasized the last part with her best high-pitched girly voice.

Aubrey laughed. “Hey, don't knock it. That shit is dynamite on pancakes.”

\--

When they reached the next intersection Aubrey took them up the street and around the side of an old brick warehouse. It was tagged with some half-hearted graffiti and the panes of glass on the top couple floors were partly boarded over. It looked like somewhere Rosa'd probably busted someone at some point, but she followed Aubrey inside, up two flights of creaking wooden stairs and through another door.

She stepped into a room that was dark but for the lights of the city leaking from a wall of paned windows. She felt a breeze and smelled something oily. Not the heavy motor oil she was used to, but lighter, more aromatic.

Aubrey flipped a switch and the room flooded with light. Rosa stood in the middle of a barrage of color and texture. Canvases of all different sizes hung on walls around the room. Some were splashed and splattered with paint, others looked more deliberate. There were paintings of animals, trees, buildings and women.

Rosa stared around the room. She didn't really have an eye for art beyond the interior design stuff she put together. She hoped Aubrey didn't expect her to comment on it. Something lame about brush strokes or influences or something. She liked it, that was all she knew.

She stepped past a plank of wood balanced on sawhorses and a wooden cubby shelf that dozens of paintings were slotted into, to stare up at a large canvas. Done all in black and white and shades of grey, it looked almost like a photo until she came close. A woman with dark skin and darker tattoos sat on a chair, staring hard through long black dreads dressed in what looked like prisoner scrubs.

She felt her stomach tighten at the memory. Women staring at her angrily, flexing their muscles, licking their lips. She had to do it right back. Show them how tough she was. It shouldn't have been that hard--she was a badass cop after all. But being a badass cop on the outside and being a badass cop behind bars with the people you'd put away were two very different things.

“That's my ex,” Aubrey said from behind her. “She used to pose for me. Still does sometimes.”

“She was in jail?”

“She's a nurse at Brooklyn Methodist.” Aubrey pulled off her jacket and hung it on an upright broom handle. “But a lot of people assume. That's kind of the point of the piece.” She met Rosa's eyes with meaning.

Rosa blinked, torn between explaining why her mind went there, that she wasn't that kind of cop, and just shutting up, letting Aubrey think what she wanted. Suddenly even with her jacket on she felt cold. 

“I was in jail. Last year. For two months. I was set up by a dirty cop and it was hell.” She swallowed and turned to look at another canvas, a picturesque landscape with a chain-link and barbed wire fence in the foreground. 

“I'm sorry,” Aubrey said. She had the tone of someone who didn't really know what to say. Rosa knew it well.

“It's okay. I'm over it.” At least she was damn well trying to be.

“Drink?” Aubrey ducked beneath the makeshift table and produced a bottle of whiskey.

“Yup.”

“I'm out of glasses,” Aubrey said as she handed her the bottle.

“Not a problem.” Rosa took a swig. The burn felt good down her throat. She returned the bottle and watched Aubrey throw back her head and take a deep drink, her neck arched and her eyes glittering in the overhead light.

Rosa felt a stir inside her and forgot all about paintings and exes and cop-hating prisoners. She followed Aubrey as she took off her shoes and lead her towards a gap between some huge canvases. On the other side, where the brick wall met the bank of windows, lay a mattress covered in brightly patterned fabric. The grimy glass panes smeared the city into a fog of amber light. 

Aubrey knelt down on the mattress and Rosa came with her, landing awkwardly on her butt. Aubrey laughed and Rosa, taken by the sound, leaned in to kiss her. Their lips met, giving way to tongues. Rosa pulled Aubrey closer, felt the urgency rise up in her, but she forced herself to ease off, slow down. But it was all she could do not to push Aubrey down on the mattress and tell her how it was going to go.

Aubrey broke away, grinning at her with white teeth, her hands still on Rosa's waist. “You're into this?”

Rosa nodded, slightly breathless. She'd been wanting to do this all damn night. She watched Aubrey's lips hungrily as she took another swig from the whiskey bottle.

“And I've been tested—I'm good.” Aubrey looked at her sideways.

It took Rosa a second to get what she was saying. “Oh. Yeah. Me too.” As much as she hated needles, she'd gotten the whole thing done when she'd thought Pimento had been cheating. 

“Good. 'Cause there's some stuff I wanted to do since I first saw you talking to Miss Skinny Margarita...” The look she gave her made Rosa suddenly aware of her own heartbeat.

She pulled Aubrey to her and kissed her again, insistently this time, gripping her back and the nape of her neck.

Aubrey pushed her up against the exposed brick wall. She pushed back, biting Aubrey's lips, raking her teeth over Aubrey's tongue. She let her hands go where they wanted, down the curves of Aubrey's body, over skin, soft, smooth skin. She suddenly felt unbearably hot still in her leather jacket. Aubrey seemed to read her mind, peeling the jacket down off her shoulders, pinning her upper arms to her sides and forcing her hands down to Aubrey's hips.

Rosa leant forward, biting, kissing the skin on her neck, down her jaw. Aubrey tipped her head back again, letting out a low moan, and Rosa felt it reverberate down her core. She lost patience with her jacket and yanked her arms free as Aubrey pulled her shirt over her head. She almost tore Aubrey's shirt in her determination to get it off, her fingers landing on the bare skin of Aubrey's back as she felt her own bra come loose and felt smooth fingers and cold metal rings cup her breasts, thumbing her nipples.

She sucked in breath through her teeth, momentarily enthralled with the white hot sensation as Aubrey moved down and started working her nipples with her tongue. Rosa reached for her, but Aubrey grabbed her wrists and held them against the rough brick.

Her muscles tensed. She fought the urge to break the hold, and pin Aubrey down instead, to compete to see who would submit first, like she did with Pimento, or just take charge like she did with Marcus and tried to do with Leanne.

Her hands were clenched into fists, but she let Aubrey hold her. She was ready for something new, something different.

Aubrey grinned playfully at her. Rosa tried to kiss her but she dodged and nipped at the skin at Rosa's throat.

“I wanna touch you,” Rosa whispered, willing to play the game if it got her what she wanted. 

Aubrey surfaced, grinning wickedly at her. Rosa waited, fighting every impulse for action. Aubrey took one of Rosa's hands off the wall and slid her fingers between her lips and began to suck and tease them one by one. Oh damn. She'd had no idea that could be so hot. The girl was definitely good with her tongue.

With one final lick of her fingers, Aubrey slid her hand down, down. Rosa watched, mesmerized, feeling Aubrey's skin beneath her wet fingers and then suddenly, the band of her pants, her underwear and _inside_. Aubrey groaned and closed her eyes, but didn't let go of Rosa's hand, driving her fingers deeper, moving them how she wanted.

She tilted her head back, exposing her neck, arching her back and Rosa couldn't restrain herself anymore. She broke Aubrey's grip on her other hand, launching herself off the wall, straddling Aubrey to get a better angle, catching a bit of friction herself against her own forearm as she thrust. She was so fucking wet. Aubry leaned back, working her own clit until she opened her eyes, looking up at her with dark eyes. Rosa saw her mouth tremble and her eyelids flutter and felt her come, pulsing around her fingers.

Panting slightly, Rosa withdrew her hand but stayed where she was, staring down at Aubrey who sighed, her skin glistening. Rosa savored her effect on the other woman, and felt a swell of satisfaction.

Aubrey kissed her softly, on the lips and she kissed back slowly, almost—dare she say it—tenderly. A kind of vulnerability lurked behind it, threatening to show itself in her eyes so she kept them closed as Aubrey broke the kiss and began moving downward. She undid Rosa's pants, and Rosa had to help her shimmy off the tight fabric. Her underwear went with it and she was suddenly exposed under Aubrey's gaze.

But the look Aubrey gave her stoked the fire and her desire swallowed her as Aubrey ate her out. She saw the city lights surge below them as she panted and murmured and finally came hot and heavy with Aubrey's hair curled between her fingers and caressing her thighs.

She relaxed against the wall while Aubrey sat back on her heels, wiping her mouth and grinning.

“Wanna stay over?” she asked.

“Yup,” Rosa said without hesitation. She wasn't usually one for sleepovers, especially after the Holt breakfast nook incident, but she was feeling it tonight.

Aubrey smiled and lay down on the mattress. She was still mostly dressed. The breeze from the old windows dried the sweat from Rosa's skin, and she searched for her shirt, finally finding it balled up between the wall and the mattress. She shrugged it on.

“Aw.” Aubrey fake-pouted from where she lay watching Rosa, her head on her hand.

Rosa smirked at her. “Not until you even the field.”

“Fine.” Aubrey sat up on her knees and shimmied out of her jeans and then her underwear. 

“And the rest of it?” Rosa flicked her eyes to Aubrey's bra and relaxed backward on the mattress.

“That's for a second date.” She crawled closer and straddled Rosa's legs. “If you want it.”

Rosa lay back, feeling Aubrey's wetness on her stomach, swallowing a wave of desire. She was already throbbing again, ready to go.

“Yeah, I do,” she whispered. What was with her tonight? She wasn't usually this easy to rile up. Not since Pimento anyways, but she shoved his memory out of her head and stared up at Aubrey and her glittering eyes and her yellow bra.

Aubrey straightened up and began to touch herself, slowly, clearly enjoying it, grinning down at Rosa like she knew it was turning her on. Rosa tried to touch her, but Aubrey batted her hand away, still smiling. Rosa fought another urge to exchange their positions and tease her silly instead. But she held her ground, watching Aubrey as she writhed on top of her, feeling her body responding, swelling, needing. It was getting intense, almost starting to hurt, but still a good feeling.

“You want to touch me?” Aubrey asked. Her tone had a new air of haughtiness to it.

“Yes,” Rosa said, and the part of her that wanted to take control was squirming just a little more.  
Aubrey tilted her head, leaning down just a little. “Yes, what?”.

“Yes...” _Yes, please._ She heard it echo in her head and saw, as though the memory was right in front of her, Lieutenant Hawkins leering at her behind a wall of glass... _Little Rosa Diaz...You don't even beg well..._

And she felt it like a freight train barrelling towards her. Her heart picking up speed, her face was hot. Her breathing faster. Oh shit. Not now.

She tried to pull it together, but the thoughts bulldozed their way through, her body reacting of its own accord, preparing itself for the fight.

_I'm gonna get you, pig._ The inmates taunts, knowing she was one of them now. Caged. Powerless.

“Rosa, are you okay?” Aubrey's face floated beside her.

“I'm fine,” she whispered, trying to breath normally, to snap herself out of it. Repeating it in her head. She was fine. She was fine.

_Babe, this is not fine._ Her ex-girlfriend's frustrated voice rose up. _You're not dealing with this._ But she was, in her own way. She did the damn psych eval. She just needed time...and space...and just a moment to think, to breathe before she went fucking crazy...

She could feel the train coming and she tried to hold it off, stop the thoughts, stop the panic, push it back down before Aubrey could see what a freak she really was.

_You got me good._ She remembered Pimento wild-eyed, panting beneath her and the blood on his chest and the blade in her hand. And he'd wanted it—he'd begged her to do it. He liked the pain. He craved it. Punishment, release, more and more. Said it kept his demons at bay. She'd wanted to give him what he needed, and it was okay in the moment, and she knew what she was doing--how not to cause damage. But after, when she saw the wounds and they looked just like the ones Figgis' men had given him, she'd just felt sick. And she knew she was a part of something she didn't want...

“Rosa, what do you need?” the voice penetrated. 

Rosa opened her eyes and saw Aubrey laying across from her on the mattress, not touching, not panicking, not frowning.

“If you need some time, I can step outside.” Her voice was soft, calm, like everything was okay.  
She smiled and something in Rosa's head let go, something flipped, like the railroad switch diverting the train to another track and her body relaxed. She took a breath. Her heart was slowing. It was okay, she was in control.

“I'm okay.” Her voice shook a little, her hands shook a little, but not bad. “It was nothing,” she said and sat up, hoping to head off the questions and whatever else Aubrey was planning on saying. She started mentally searching for her clothes. “I don't want to talk about it.” Didn't want to think about how she'd just embarrassed herself. Getting out fast was her only option.

She grabbed her pants and awkwardly pulled them on, sitting on her butt, aware Aubrey was still watching her. She grabbed her bra and her leather jacket and stood up, stumbling unsteadily on the squishy mattress. “I gotta go.” 

“Really?” Aubrey sounded disappointed. 

“I got stuff to do.” She didn't mean to sound so angry, but she was. Angry at herself. It had been fun and she'd fucked it up. She stepped back into the main room and it was a thousand degrees cooler, and felt like fresher air. 

She had to put down her jacket to pull on her boots. So she grabbed them instead and walked barefoot to the door, sacrificing her socks and underwear to the gods of shitty one night stands.

“Rosa.” Aubrey was right behind her. “If I did something--”

Rosa turned her head but didn't look at her. “It's not you.” At least she could give her that much. “It's no big deal.” she said, her hand on the door knob.

Aubrey ducked into her line of sight. “Okay--it's no big deal. So why don't you stay?” She smiled, looking hopeful. “If you want. 'Cause I do.”

Rosa held her eye, searching her face for a sign of something that betrayed her words. But there was nothing. “Really?”

“Yeah. It's been a good time, don't you think?” Aubrey really didn't seem bothered by her freakout.

Rosa relaxed a notch. “Yeah. It has.” She managed a small but genuine smile.

“Great.” Aubrey flashed a grin and took a step back towards the table. “I need some coffee. Want some?”

Rosa hesitated as Aubrey disappeared behind the canvasses. Maybe it would be better if they just called it a night. But she was still standing there when Aubrey reappeared wearing pants. Rosa laid her jacket over Aubrey's on a broom handle. “You got any herbal tea?”

Aubrey raised an eyebrow. “Whiskey neat and herbal tea, huh?” She laughed. “I might have a bag somewhere.”

Rosa took the opportunity to duck back into the makeshift bedroom and straighten her clothes. She combed a hand through her hair in the dim reflection in the windows. The movement of the lights of traffic below them made her feel more grounded and by the time she joined Aubrey again in the main room, the unsteady feeling was almost completely gone. Aubrey put down her phone as Rosa approached the sawhorse table, and handed her a paint-splattered mug of green tea.

“You wanna see something cool?” Aubrey peered at her as she sipped a mug of strong smelling coffee that made Rosa wish that she hadn't given it up.

“Sure.” She followed Aubrey out the door and climbed stairs behind her to a metal door. It lead them out to a small flat portion of roof. The lights of Brooklyn stretched out around them. Through a curtain of taller building she could see the skyscrapers of downtown Manhattan. “Nice view.” 

It was chilly on the roof and she'd left her jacket behind, but it felt good to be outside, even if the air still had that crowded city smell.

“Yeah.” Beside her, Aubrey hefted a board away from the cinder-block wall of the stairwell. Beneath was a painting of the nighttime city in large daubs of paint. Instead of amber, the lights were blue and red. Most of the lower lights were blue, while clusters of red lights topped the city tower peaks.

“I'm not sure about it, yet.” Aubrey told her. “There's more to it I still have to figure out.”

Rosa had no idea what she was talking about. “Sounds deep.”

“That's why I like art. There's a lot of layers to go through. There's a lot below the surface.” She met Rosa's eyes and it felt like she was talking about more than art.

Rosa smiled and drank her green tea and stared out at the city until she was too cold to pretend she wasn't. She returned to the wall where Aubrey was silently dabbing black paint near the bottom of the cityscape. When Aubrey stepped back, Rosa saw she had added the silhouette of a woman in front of the buildings right where Rosa had been standing.

“Another layer.” Aubrey grinned. “Maybe I do like it.”

Something unfurled in Rosa's stomach as they headed back down the stairs. She and Aubrey were making out again by the time they reached the studio and fell asleep just as the sky began to lighten, naked and tangled in each other under the patterned quilts.

\--

Rosa arrived at their second date with a twinge of unease. She wasn't sure how to feel about the fact that Aubrey was the friend Gina had wanted to set her up with all along. Even though she'd had to concede that Gina had known what she was doing with the Skinny Margarita decoy. She wondered if Aubrey had told Gina anything about their night other than the fact that they'd gotten together. There were certain things she'd rather Gina Linetti not know.

They grabbed food at a café Aubrey said was good and were just biting into a cheap dinner, when she decided to say something.

“You knew,” she said in between bites, “who I was at the bar.” 

Aubrey grinned lopsidedly and wiped her mouth. “Yeah. Sorry. I wasn't trying to play you or anything--I wasn't even gonna hit on you. But then one thing led to another...” She shrugged apologetically. “Guess I should have said something.”

“Nah.” Placated, Rosa waved it away. “It's okay. Gina was right. I probably wouldn't have gone for it the same way if I'd known. No pressure, right?”

Aubrey nodded, but she was looking at her plate. “Honestly, I wasn't so sure about meeting someone who breaks up with people for eating soup.” She looked up. “Unless it's tomato. That stuff's nasty.”

Rosa cracked a smile even though she was pissed Gina had told her that. Another reason this probably wasn't a great idea. But looking at Aubrey, she felt like she wanted to at least try it. 

“Look, okay—it wasn't just the soup.”

“It's okay.” Aubrey shrugged. “Stuff doesn't work out sometimes. I've dated a lot of women it just didn't end up working out with.”

“Yeah.” Rosa felt uncomfortable suddenly. “She was my first,” she blurted out.

Aubrey looked surprised. “First what?”

“First woman—first relationship with a woman,” she clarified. Before Leanne--or Becky, as Gina apparently called her--it had just been crushes, a few nights here and there, but nothing serious. “And with her it just, I don't know...” She paused, not sure if she should say it. “I wasn't sure if it was her or it was me—I just—I've always liked women. I've always wanted to--I mean, I thought about it, having a girlfriend and everything, but it's...it's all new to me. It was like there was all this stuff, this whole world I hadn't been a part of before, not really. I wasn't even out to anyone, not my coworkers or friends or family. And it was all just...a lot at once.” She stopped, slightly out of breath. Had she ever actually said that much at one time? 

“And then she ate soup.” Aubrey nodded like she understood.

Rosa grinned. “Yeah. That was the real Kiss of Death.”

Aubrey laughed.

That night they went back to Rosa's apartment. And Aubrey admired the color palette and the blue and white patterned vases and Rosa showed her the jewelry she made with metal from vintage bike parts and they talked about art and layers and somehow it was making her hot. And she couldn't believe she was getting turned on from something lame like talking but suddenly they were making out and naked on her couch with the carefully chosen throw.

She was late for work again the next day, but at least this time she had managed to change her clothes.


	2. Never Have I Ever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> set during Episode 5x19 'Bachelor/ette Party”

It was during the break between rounds seven and eight of Never Have I Ever that Gina followed her into the bathroom and shut the door.

Rosa raised an eyebrow at her. “Yes?”

“My offer still stands. Vote seven minutes in heaven for our next game and I'll make sure it's you and I. And then Hitchcock and Kylie.”

Rosa wrinkled her nose at the thought of Hitchcock and anyone. She was almost certain Gina was kidding. “We're alone together now. So?”

“So.” Gina folded her arms. “I noticed that when Amy said Never Have I Ever been dumped, you took a drink.”

Rosa stiffened. “So? It was a long time ago.”

“Really?” Gina pointed a finger in the air. “Because I distinctly remember when Boyle was having his Matrix moment that you told us all you'd never been dumped. And then it was Marcus, Tom, Pimento, Becky...” she ticked them off on her fingers. “All dumped by you. So, what gives?”

Rosa scowled at her. “Fine, okay? Aubrey dumped me. She got back with her ex.” Her scowl deepened at the look of sympathy on Gina's face. “She's your friend—she didn't tell you?”

“My dear Rosa,” Gina patter her gamely on the arm. “I don't like to pry into other people's affairs.”

She took a step out of Gina's reach. “You literally just did.”

Gina rolled her eyes. “Okay then, we haven't been speaking since she beat me on Words With Friends. Quetzal. I mean, really?”

“Yeah, okay.” Rosa made a move for the door. “So, we done?”

“Unless I can interest you in a banjo player who's into some light bondage...?”

Rosa smirked. “Hard pass.”

Gina shrugged. “Your loss.” She tipped her head. “I'm sorry it didn't work out with Aubrey though. She should have told me there was still something between her and whatshername. She's being a real Quetzal, if you ask me.”

“Nah.” Rosa frowned. “She's okay. She was sorry about it. But hey, at least she was honest. Way better than half the guys I used to date.”

“Ah yes. The nameless multitudes. Anyone look like Sterling K. Brown, send him my way.”

Rosa suddenly realized what she was implying. “What about Milton?”

Gina shrugged. “Turns out running your own company is a lot of work. A not really see-your-kid-and-girlfriend kind of work. And I demand complete and total devotion from my lovers.” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively and made a show of looking Rosa up and down, but Rosa could tell there was pain behind it.

“I'm sorry Gina. That's terrible.” She should have known something was up when Gina had said all men were monsters a couple weeks back. “So you broke up?”

“Eh. We're taking some time apart. Exploring other possibilities. And I'm up to my neck in being 'worlds most influential mother', so my possibilities go about as far as this room.”

Rosa waited for the punchline, certain there would be one.

“So anyone you can remember was a good bang, send him my way.” There it was. Gina opened the bathroom door and turned to go.

“Will do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for next chapter: mentions mass shootings (skip to Ch 4 to avoid)


	3. Show Me Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> post 5 x 20 "Show Me Going"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: panic attack, mentions of mass shooting situation
> 
> My heart goes out to those who have been intimately affected by mass shootings/violence.

Shaw's bar was crowded that day. Every time a cop in a nearby precinct got hurt, got killed, they drank. What the hell else were they going to do? It was their job. It was what they signed up for. They chose to step into danger to protect the people who hadn't chosen. Who were there by accident.

Rosa slid into a chair at a table near the back and sat there moodily while Jake, Amy and Boyle all rushed off to get her a drink. She glanced towards the bar, but she didn't see Aubrey behind it, serving. Maybe she was off tonight. Off with her ex. Her girlfriend. Whatever. Rosa was fine with it. They'd only been on a few dates anyway. She'd had takeout in her fridge that had lasted longer.

She watched the others at the bar, sinking farther and farther back in her chair. She didn't want to be here right now. She knew she'd suggested it, but mostly because it had seemed the lesser evil compared to talking and extended hugging. When she'd first gotten back, their obvious relief had made her feel better, but now all the attention was wearing thin.

Boyle brought her a beer. Peralta had got her a glass of whiskey and Santiago had gotten them both shots that looked like something she'd put in one of the cars she rebuilt.

“Bottoms up!” Amy was grinning at her and she took the shot and swallowed and grimaced at the sourness of it.

“Scootch, ya pooch.” Gina pulled up a chair beside Boyle holding a glass of white wine with red liquid floating in the bottom of it. “So, I'm not one to brag, but I fixed our little bathroom problem.”

“That was your job originally,” Amy reminded her.

“Yes well. It seems our broken toilet is now a demolition site, Amy, so I had to pull a few strings, grease a few palms to get a full bathroom restoration.”

“That's great!” Amy's face lit up. “Isn't that great, Rosa?”

Rosa nodded and took a swig of her whiskey, determined to stick to her silence policy. But the others were too wound up. Amy chatted brightly to Gina about the bathroom upgrades while Gina stared at her phone. Boyle and Peralta were discussing a new name for Strike-Team Thunder-Kill Alpha: Hard Target. She could see Jake and Amy holding hands, even as they carried on other conversations as though to reassure each other they were still there.

She downed the rest of the whiskey in a gulp. Jake jumped up to get her another. She accepted it. Slammed it down. His next offer, she waved away and went up to the bar herself. The owner was behind the bar, and two other guys she'd seen before, but no Aubrey. 

The Sarge bought her a drink and talked about life insurance until she chugged that one too. A couple of the beat cops from Amy's squad bought her rounds, including Officer Deitmore, who looked like he'd already had a few. She accepted it all with a nod and a toast. She didn't say anything. Didn't refuse. She couldn't talk about it, couldn't dwell on the fact that they were buying her drinks just because she didn't get killed. But people had. People whose names she didn't even know.

She nodded and drank. She was about to go back to the table when she caught Captain Holt looking at her from a booth in the corner. He seemed to have been trying to give the detectives some space and now he was talking with the Sarge, but he caught her eye. 

Maybe he'd come over to her and say something. She stiffened. She couldn't take his words now. As briefly as he spoke, his words meant more. He meant more. There was something about him that had led her to open up on multiple occasions and she couldn't deal with opening anything right now. 

She exhaled and put down her glass, turned and walked out of the bar. Pulled out her phone and saw a text from Gina. _Where'd you go girl?_

She texted back. _Going home. Tired. Long Day,_ and put her phone in her jacket pocket before she could feel the buzz of Gina's reply. She got on her bike and sped away from the curb.

\--

She squinted at the street sign. Shit. She should not have drove. She parked her bike in the first spot she could find and had to walk a block to get her bearings. Her phone was dead, or she would have looked it up. She remembered Aubrey mentioning it was somewhere on this street.

After a brisk fifteen minute walk, she finally found it, tucked in amongst the other storefronts. A simple sign above and a neon OPEN marked her way to the bar. She stumbled into a small, dark room with a bar at one end and a bunch of low seating scattered around. It was immediately different than the other women's bars she'd been into. She didn't feel the same scrutiny here, although she felt eyes on her as she made her way to the bar and ordered two shots from a tall, dark woman behind the counter. She already liked this place better.

She was on her third, possible fourth drink when someone grabbed hold of her waist. Her instincts drove her, wrenching the offending hand away, gripping the fingers so they couldn't get away. Twisting to hurt. She was a wrist twitch away from breaking a finger when the woman screamed in pain. Rosa flinched at the sound, loosened her grip and the woman yanked her hand away. 

“Geez, bitch--”

“Don't fucking touch me.” Rosa was shaking with sudden rage. But her words, meant to be hard-edged, came out slurred.

“Rosa?”

She heard a familiar voice and turned, seeing Aubrey and--it took her several blinks to focus--the woman from the painting. She stumbled back, suddenly her legs weren't fully supporting her. And she realized she was drunk. Drunk? No--trashed, wasted, she was so far beyond drunk. The room was spinning and suddenly--suddenly being off-balance in a dark bar full of strangers felt a lot like finding the huddled mass of hotel guests in the pool locker room, felt like something bad was happening that she had to stop. That she was supposed to stop.

That she couldn't stop.

The train of panic was coming and this time she couldn't get out of the way. It took her breath and her speech and all she could hear was the pounding of her heart as the ground rushed up to meet her.

Strong arms grabbed her and she struggled to fight them off, but she couldn't, she couldn't and she felt like she was being dragged, and then pushed into a chair. And suddenly Aubrey was staring up at her.

“Rosa. It's okay.”

Rosa tried to tell her it wasn't. That people had died. That she had almost—that she could have—but she was gasping for air and she couldn't get the words out.

“Just breathe.”

She realized that Aubrey was holding her hands. Smiling. Rosa tried to breathe. Aubrey started counting and breathing. Rosa felt stupid. Embarrassed. Her face felt incredibly hot and her chest felt impossibly tight, but she managed to follow Aubrey's breaths, to slow her own. To come back to her surroundings—but she wasn't sure she wanted to come back to the dim bar where she'd hurt someone and the girlfriend of the girl she'd liked was handing her a glass of water.

“Thanks,” she said and managed to take a sip even though her stomach was churning. She blinked, but her vision was still hazy, her tongue still thick. She was exhausted suddenly, but she wasn't sure if it was the booze or everything else.

“Are you okay?” Now Aubrey looked concerned. She glanced at her girlfriend. “I heard what happened today.”

Rosa shook her head, but it only made her dizzy. “It's fine. I'm fine.” But the words took too long to say. She was definitely way drunker than she'd thought. 

She squinted at Aubrey and her girlfriend sitting together across from her. “You guys make a nice couple.” She wasn't sure what made her say it, but it seemed true. They were out here together after all. That was half the battle, wasn't it? Being places together?

“Thanks.” Aubrey smiled softly and took her girlfriend's hand. The woman was nearly as stoic as the painting. Rosa liked that. Maybe if she'd been feeling better—and maybe hadn't boned her girlfriend--they might have been friends.

Rosa saw their focus move to just behind her. She stiffened and swung around. Gina was standing in the doorway, phone in one hand, bag in the other. 

“Linetti, what are you doing here?” Rosa frowned as Gina made her way over to them.

“I called her,” Aubrey said. “You're way too drunk to get home by yourself.”

Rosa blinked. That's right, they were friends. She'd forgotten. Damn, she really was drunk. Maybe Aubrey had a point. She looked at Gina, who was staring imperiously down at her. 

“You're a mess, girl.” 

She hated the pity in Gina's tone. “I'm fine,” she snapped.

Gina crossed her arms. “Okay, then. Stand up.”

Rosa glared at her, gripped both arms of the overstuffed chair and tried to push herself up, but her equilibrium was still off and she stumbled into Gina and felt a firm hand around her waist.

“Come on, I'm taking you home.” 

\--

She sobered up considerably on the cab ride. Enough to realize that when Gina had said home she'd meant hers and not Rosa's. It made sense in retrospect, and Rosa didn't want to go home anyways. It was hard to explain. She didn't believe in any of that psychic energy crap that Gina did, but she knew there was such a thing as bad mojo. And after today, she still felt like there were bad vibes coming off her, like something from the hotel had rubbed off and she still hadn't managed to shake it.

She didn't want that feeling in her home. Didn't want it to take root and become a thing, become a part of her everyday life.

But lying on Gina's couch in her clothes, still covered in dirt and sweat from the day, was worse than going back to her apartment. She kept replaying it over in her mind, the dim corridors, the smell of gunpowder, people screaming. The bodies, the shooters, the crackle of orders through their radios. She couldn't have done anything differently. She wasn't the one calling the shots, she was just the one avoiding them, and she nearly hadn't. It had been close. Too close.

And the nine-nine had been worried, and everyone their usual crazy selves, and tonight, she bet they'd all be tucked into bed, holding their loved ones just a little bit tighter and telling themselves no one really knew how much time they had left.

She suddenly felt more alone than she ever had. She lay with her eyes open until she couldn't take it anymore and left the nest of blankets on the couch and tiptoed towards the door.

“Going somewhere?” 

Rosa flinched. Gina appeared silhouetted in the light from the street outside. Her arms were folded across her chest.

“It's fine. Go back to bed,” Rosa muttered.

“You're gonna go out to some other bar and get wasted with strangers? 'Cause that almost didn't turn out so good.” If Gina'd said it in her usual know-it-all tone, Rosa would have been pissed. But she didn't. She sounded tired, too tired to argue. Too tired to care.

Then Rosa would make it real simple for her. “I'm going home,” she lied.

Gina sighed. “Come on, girl. Why can't you just stay with the people who care about you?”

Rosa exhaled, suddenly feeling desperate, like a trap was going to close on her if she stayed a second longer. Something was going to break. And she couldn't deal with that right now.

“I don't know.” She left the apartment without saying goodbye or looking back and she was shaking inside her leather jacket by the time she'd made it to the lobby. 

She might have flown to Montreal as per usual, but she didn't want to deal with airport security right now. She would've jumped on her bike, pointed it in the direction of the open road and gone, but she knew she still couldn't drive safe. She didn't have a death-wish. If she had, today wouldn't have hit her so hard. It wouldn't have scared her so bad that she could die and all that would be left behind was an empty desk at the nine-nine and a rented garage full of vintage car parts.

She took the train to Manhattan and used her shell corporation credit card to check into a not-so-classy hotel. Still hella expensive. 

She took a hot shower that turned luke-warm after the first ten minutes. Her eyes were prickling from exhaustion, but her brain was still turning, working, going over the events of the day. Trying to work it out of her system. 

She put her clothes back on. Kept the knife in her boot. Touched the pendant of St. Michael at her throat and left the room.

The hotel bar was near last call. She was cutting it close. Everyone would be paired up soon. She wasn't sure what she was looking for. Someone, anyone to take her mind off of everything. But no one piqued her interest, in fact, everyone repulsed her. The guy shooting her looks from the corner, the woman drunkly eyeing her up. Suddenly the thought of someone else's hands on her made her want to hurl.

_Why can't you just stay with the people who care about you?_

Because. Because they didn't understand, that was why. They tried and all, but in the end, in the end, she just had this feeling, everyone was gonna leave. And she'd been right. Pimento fucked off and left her in jail and her parents still weren't speaking to her, and game night had eventually fizzled out when they'd all got busy with work and life and everything else. 

She didn't blame them. It wasn't like she made it easy. She fought friendship, she fought kindness, she fought opening up about feelings and personal crap. She'd fought it with Marcus and Tom and Leanne. She'd fought Pimento—and that's what made it work for so long, because he fought back, harder and crazier than she ever could.

And there was a part of her that was tired of fighting. It was the part that had gotten closer to her family after prison, the part that stood in front of the nine-nine and come out as bi, the part of her that had let Gina Linetti set her up on a date.

But the rest of her, the rest of her was scared. Terrified that all the little separate pieces of her life, all the feelings, all the facets she kept hidden on a daily basis were like dangerous unstable chemicals. Mix them together and they'd explode and destroy everything. Or maybe she was more afraid that the opposite was true--that the sum of all of her parts would be uninteresting, inert waste.

And maybe that was why, instead of celebrating silently with the friends who'd spent the whole day worrying about her, she was sitting alone in a crappy hotel bar being eyed up by drunken losers. Being a drunken loser.

She sweet talked the bartender into a half-bottle of probably watered-down whiskey for double the price and took it up to her room. She used the room phone and left a message on Terry's voicemail saying that she was calling in sick tomorrow. She sounded sick, all dry-mouthed and raspy, but at least she wasn't slurring her words anymore.

She sat in the chair by the bed holding the bottle of whiskey and stared at a painting of Times Square that sort of reminded her of the painting Aubrey had added her into. She wondered how long the painting would last up there on the roof and who might see it, stumble on it one day and wonder about the woman with her back to the world. 

She caught a glimpse of herself reflected in the TV and in the darkness of it, could barely tell that she'd been crying.

\--

She woke with a kink in her neck, a foul taste in her mouth and a feeling that she'd been running from something in her head. As nights went, it hadn't been the best. But at least she hadn't done anything stupid. At least it was over. 

She wore her sunglasses down in the elevator and into the lobby to check out and was still squinting when she stepped outside into the sunlight.

“Hey Diaz, want a ride?”

She jerked her head up and frowned at Peralta standing out the drivers's side of his car, being viciously honked at by a taxi he'd double parked.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

He shrugged, eyes wide with exaggerated innocence. “I was on my way to work.”

“Dude.” She put a hand on her hip and raised an eyebrow. “It's almost noon and we're not even in Brooklyn.”

“So, I'm a bad employee and my GPS is a liar. Come on, get in.” He grinned. The driver was getting out of the cab, making throat-slitting gestures.

She didn't want this to end in violence. “Fine.” She skirted the cab and slipped into the passenger seat of Jake's car.

“Where to, Milady?”

“Don't call me that,” she snapped, then hesitated. “My apartment.”

“Is it still—?”

“Yup.” Much as she'd been tempted, she hadn't moved since the whole squad had been over. It wasn't so bad, she guessed—people knowing where she lived. At least she could close her eyes on the drive and not have to give Peralta directions. 

She wondered if he was picking her up just to try to get the goods on yesterday. Get the inside story. She bet he'd wished it was him getting a chance to prove himself in a high-profile case. 

But it hadn't been a chance to prove anything. It wasn't a chance to be a hero. It was just a part of the job that had to be done. And she'd known that going in. She hadn't tried to lighten the mood or make up backstories or think about feelings. But she also hadn't balked when it got heavy. When she lost radio contact and was alone with the killer somewhere nearby. She just pushed everything away and did her job. Just like she always did. And maybe for now, that was enough. 

She swallowed. Her mouth was still dry, but she was starting to adjust to the morning, the new day. She'd pushed through and she was okay.

She could tell Jake was still itching to say something, the way he was tapping on the wheel and making noises with his mouth. Holding back wasn't Jake Peralta's strong suit. She maintained the silence until she couldn't stand it any more. 

She finally opened an eye and looked at him. “Dude, just spit it out.”

“I'm sorry. I know you hate apologies, but I'm sorry anyways,” he rambled. “I didn't mean to pressure you about talking about anything. Maybe talking helped me, but maybe it's not for everybody. What I'm trying to say...” he glanced over at her and she made a point of rolling her eyes. “...is that if silence is your thing then I'm here for you. In silence.” He made a zipping motion against his lips.

She squinted at him, waiting for him to open his mouth and ruin it. But he didn't.

“Thanks, man,” she said finally, letting him off the hook. 

He nodded spastically. She could tell not talking was doing him some damage, but she appreciated it. “And thanks for the ride.”

He waved an emphatic goodbye as she got out of the car in front of her building. She rolled her eyes and turned her back, but she felt a little lighter. When she got into her apartment, stripped off her clothes and fell onto the bed, she exhaled like she'd been holding something in and relaxed into a deep sleep.


	4. Rosa & Alicia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> set during and after 5 x 22 "Jake & Amy"

The second the woman got out of the car, Rosa was smitten. And that word was definitely not one she'd ever applied to herself before. That was for marshmallow-hearted people like Boyle and Peralta whose eyes starred-over like cartoon characters when the women they liked got too close. 

But watching the way Alicia's hair cascaded over her shoulders, the way her eyes sparkled and her lips formed that insane little pucker, she felt the same way she had when she was thirteen and watching Lisa Turtle on 'Saved by The Bell' and realizing with a sudden flash and flood of feeling that she liked girls in _that_ way.

“Rosa, what the hell are you doing?” Terry was gesturing wildly from the open trunk of the car.

She blinked. “You were the one that said--”

“That was before the veil went missing! When life was breezy!”

\--

It only got worse as the day went on. In their search for the veil, Alicia proved herself not only having good taste--of course hats were stupid—but being smart too. When Terry caught her snort-laughing, she was almost too far gone to care.

By the time she and Terry got back to the crisis at the wedding venue, her walls were dissolving around her like Jake and Amy's cake in the hot New York sun.

She was thinking about Alicia--her smile, her hair, the way she handled tight corners. She had even offered her personal number to Rosa in case they needed anything else. 

As the day wore on, Rosa had brought it up on her screen, looked at it, and locked her phone again and put it down.

Sarge's universe stuff was getting to her. She didn't believe in that crap--she didn't even know for sure if Alicia actually liked her or was just being nice. Texting her for nothing would make her look crazy, or desperate and she couldn't deal with that.

And then they'd decided to move the wedding to the precinct without any of the crap that had been paid for except a cake half eaten by a gluttonous Corgi and suddenly, suddenly she had a reason. She texted Alicia.

_I need flowers._ And waited, feeling the seconds tick by with excruciating slowness until her phone buzzed and Alicia texted back that she'd been driving by a florist that never seemed to close.

Rosa waited for her at the curb, feeling a flush through her body as the car rolled to a stop and she got into the back seat. And Alicia told her about time she'd driven Cameron Diaz to the airport and Rosa, without any prompting had launched into an account of the design scheme for the apartment she'd based on Cameron's house in 'The Holiday'. And then they were at the florist's and she was almost out of breath as she told the woman behind the counter she needed something classy and fast.

The woman nodded like she'd been given orders from a drill sergeant and proceeded to assemble, in a matter of minutes, a bouquet that would make Nancy Meyers and her design team proud.

Triumphant, Rosa returned to the waiting car holding a bouquet of white, ivory and soft pink roses.

“For me? You shouldn't have.” Alicia laughed at her own joke as Rosa got into the back seat and she suddenly had the overwhelming urge to thrust the flowers towards her and say they were for her all along.

What the hell was wrong with her?

She was frozen suddenly, trying to think of something good to say. But all she could think of was asking how many damn siblings the woman had. And then she was thinking that even if they went out on a date and it wasn't a snore, and things started getting good, then something would happen to wreck it. Someone would try to kill one of them, or someone would go to prison, or someone would get back with an ex.

Because if she did buy into that universe crap, then it only seemed to put people together to fuck with them. She knew that because right now it was trying real hard to keep two people who loved each other from having the special day they deserved. 

She clutched the bouquet with a tighter and tighter grip all the way back to the precinct. When they arrived, she managed a “thanks” and saw one last flash of Alicia's grin before she escaped the car.

\--

_Life is unpredictable — not everything is in our control. As long as you’re with the right people, you can handle anything._

Amy's vows hit her hard. The whole wedding did. It was beautiful--the flashing police lights, the weirdo violin player and her two friends standing in front of all of them describing how much they loved each other.

It was lame in the best possible way.

She couldn't help but smile--grin, really. Her cheeks were hurting by the time they were pronounced husband and wife. Really, how did people do that with their faces all the time?

They went to Shaw's bar afterwards to celebrate, which would have been fine except Aubrey might be working. The last few times she hadn't been, and Rosa wasn't sure if she was relieved or not. After Aubrey'd dumped her, it'd been okay. But now, they hadn't seen each other since the incident at the bar across town and she remembered everything from that stupid drunken night except how they'd left things.

Tonight, as soon as she walked in, she saw Aubrey's head of curls bobbing behind the bar. As everyone lined up to get drinks, she hesitated, debated asking Boyle to order for her and decided immediately that it wouldn't be worth the explanation.

Finally, when a spot opened up, she steeled herself and stepped up to the bar. Aubrey came over, smiling, and Rosa already knew it was okay—Aubrey had understood.

“What can I get you? Cheapest whiskey, nearest glass?”

Rosa was grateful for the lack of small talk. “Just a beer.”

“You want a dash of agave with that?” Aubrey winked as she removed the cap from her beer.

Rosa smirked. “I hear it's good on pancakes.” 

She left the bar and joined the rest of the nine-nine at the tables. Jake and Amy were passing out glasses of champagne (from the finest vineyard in Arkansas). Boyle was following behind clinking a spoon against his glass, trying to get them to kiss. Gina was typing something into her phone. Captain Hold standing stoically nearby, talking to Terry.

She watched them for a second, feeling a slight buzz already as she realized suddenly that these were the people she could handle anything with.

Rosa slid onto a stool beside Terry and immediately regretted it.

“So...Alicia...?” He turned and grinned widely at her.

“I will give you ten uninterrupted minutes to talk about your children, if you never bring it up again.”

He toasted her with his glass of champagne, still grinning. “Deal.”

As he rambled on about macaroni art and karate classes, she snuck out her phone and typed out a message to Alicia. _Maybe I can buy you flowers on a date tomorrow night?_ She hit send and immediately put the phone in her pocket so she didn't have to see.

After five long minutes of nodding absentmindedly to the pros and cons of sleep-away camp vs. day camp, she felt a buzz in her pocket.

She looked at her phone under the table like she was passing a note in math class.  
 _Maybe you can. ;) I'll pick u up at 7._

Rosa exhaled. Took a sip of her beer. And then she, Rosa Diaz, tough-as-nails Detective with the NYPD, sent her back a reply with a smiley face. 

And meant it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm trying to work on my writing so feedback is appreciated!


End file.
